


Consumed

by MurderIsMyPasstime



Category: Carmilla - J. Sheridan Le Fanu, The Lost Boys (Movies)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Extreme neglect of personal safety, F/M, Historical Inaccuracy, Homosexuality, Just two dudes in a stable... Being gay, Love, Lust, M/M, My sad attempts at Victorian era language, Period-Typical Homophobia, Uncertainty, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:47:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28302567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MurderIsMyPasstime/pseuds/MurderIsMyPasstime
Summary: A sort of role reversal between David and Micheal.Written in the style of Carmilla, or as close as I can get, because I have just finished it and I'm obsessed. Hello lesbian vampires! What's not to like?
Relationships: David/Michael Emerson (Lost Boys)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

What I can remember from that time is far from whole and in the most part muddled by the long passings of time.

But what I do remember is the meeting, the seduction, and the subsequent parting of ways between us both for all time.

The words he had whispered at our parting had confused and terrified me to no end until it came to pass that at last I understood their meaning. 

The words he had whispered were as this: "Let us go our separate ways now, only knowing this: nothing but time can truly part us, now. Not even death."

And just a quickly as the words had been spoken to me, he was mounted on horseback and away. The midnight flank of the hellish creature only he could tame shining in the glint of the early rays of light.


	2. Chapter 2

We shall begin our story in as close a recollection as I can give: saying only this: we begin at the beginning, when both we met.

The day had started much as any other day: a long and arduous morning spent in the clutches of my tutor whom I had only been given leave to escape at noon, when Father and I would take our leave of the house and go out walking.

I was not used to the strictness of the tutor, having only just grown out of our governess: Miss Winchel. Truthfully, I'm sure I had outgrown Miss Winchel by years but my Mother quite ruled the house and had coddled me awfully close, certain until Father had intervened, that I was just too young.

But let's speak no more on governesses and only on what did occur that day.

I say my Father and I were out walking but truly we were hunting. Father so loved a good hunt and knew I did also, so we spent the later bit of afternoon walking the woods seeking only small birds as our prey.

It came as quite by accident: one moment my weapon was raised, I had sighted down the barrel and prepared to fire and then the next moment a huge and practically demonic beast of a horse was to be seen breaking through the underbrush towards me. It's teeth were bared and it's midnight black coat gleamed with sweat. 

In it's eyes arose something so fierce that at the time and many a time later I would go so far as to say it was, itself, a demon possessed.

Said creature screamed (and I will never forget the sound) and upon spotting me, dove practically half across the space of wood I was in and seemed like to tear me to bits or rend me with it's hooves.

But then, the rider (for there of course was a rider, the beast may have been satanic but it was clad in the most handsome of tack and accrouements) shouted and pulled hard up on the reigns and seemed to put the horrific creature completely under spell.

The rider at last became visible and I, I cannot say, it was as if my breath were stolen from me. I could only describe it at the moment it happened that on sighting the young man upon the demon mount, that I desired suddenly and ardently to know him.

In what ways I would come to know him were, in that moment a mystery. 

Seeming to have just now noticed me, the gentleman on the horse gave a fierce grin and called out to me and my Father (who had just then come running through the trees towards us and the commotion) inquiring on where he had now found himself, which seemed odd from my way of thinking and I wondered how far and from where he had come to be so confused. But his origins were a mystery I was never to unravel.


	3. Chapter 3

We walked for a time, the gentleman having introduced himself to my Father and I as we walked, his horrid beast trailing behind, it's reigns held loosely in the strangers- Michael's hand as we took a more leisurely path back towards our home. We lived quite comfortably, but I still found myself worrying over this stranger and what his reaction may be to our quaint little estate. I needn't have bothered myself so, because on seeing our home the man exclaimed on and on over it and seemed quite overjoyed by its placement, as we were on all sides nestled by the hills. 

It was an odd conversation, to be sure. But I found that I liked that he liked my home, small as it was.

I found myself drawn in by the disarming and animated way that he had of speaking and hung almost comically, I'm sure, off of every word. I could not have taken my attention from him if I'd tried. It was as if, when our eyes met at the moment of our meeting, we became bound by some unknown means, for I'm sure that the young man felt it too as his eyes were drawn again and again to mine. A certain and sly look to his gaze as he regarded me while exchanging conversation with my Father.

As I walked beside them, caught up in the way the stranger moved (fluid, like water, and graceful beyond any other I had seen) and the gentle play of the early morning sun touching against his golden skin, I lost the thread of conversation and so found myself happily surprised when my Father and he proclaimed that he would be staying! And that any information regarding his home and family and reasons for residing with us were to remain a mystery until such a time as he could tell all. How strange! But still, the thought of a new companion was too good to spend the time worrying over such things that had already been decided for me that I should not know. 

So I put such thoughts from my head and turned to my new friend (for I was determined that that is what we would be) Michael, and grabbing his arm, tugged him away from my Father and towards our stables. Michael turned back to my Father, sputtering out a laugh at my eagerness and waved him farewell before I pulled him out of sight.

Once gone from my Father's side, I quite lost my steam, I knew my way around a stable, but I could not stop myself from feeling lost and uncertain when it was just Michael and I alone. He was practically a stranger and I knew only scarce bits of knowledge I had managed to glean about him while walking. Sensing my sudden unease, Michael smiled softly at me and inquired about a stall for his horse. And food, It seemed that even the Devil himself must eat.

After we had tended to his creature, who bit at me quick like a snake, its lips drawn back from its teeth. I had already been pale, being fair of complexion, but the look of my face must have been quite a sight for Michael sputtered out another laugh, pushing the nose of his beast away gently and taking my hands in his to lead me away.

I felt that I should say something at our closeness or pull away, but the measured strength in Michael's grip and the self assured way in which he held my hands to him grounded me. Gone was the fear of his animal and gone were my senses on the ways in which to comport myself with one of my peers. This was not proper, to be sure. One did not clutch tight the hands of another man and let that same man hold them close to their side as if one were a shivering damsel- a part of the fairer and weaker sex. But I did. 

And as we came about through the stables rear entrance and to the set of stairs there and sat down, I continued to do so, pestering my new friend for information on anything that he would, laughingly tell me. As we spoke on into the afternoon I quite forgot that my hand was still clutched to his side.


	4. Chapter 4

Our visitor stayed with us a great many days, I cannot remember the exact number, as time seemed to alternate as it does, between going rather fast and then slowing to a crawl, and I must confess as much, that is was a very confusing and sometimes upsetting time for me, for though we had gotten on as seemingly fast friends it seemed that my guest now strove to distance himself from me.

I began to feel as if Michael were as two people, split down the middle in desires and actions. Because as wonderfully as we had gotten on the first day it seemed that all that followed, and a great many there were, he would spend the most outrageous amount of time avoiding me. And when I did happen to get him alone, he retreated as soon as distraction allowed. As if scared to be alone with me.

And so time passed: I would awaken and greet the day, wondering if he would be the same man from his first afternoon at my home, or the one that had taken up residence seemingly overnight. The one intent on political and business matters to be discussed at length and to no end with my father, leaving no time except meals to spend in any kind of distraction that kept him from looking anywhere but at me. 

I won't say that I needed his attentions, there were my Mother and sisters and others to be had if I needed conversation. But I did want his, I wanted to speak as we had, as equals. But instead I found myself day after day, night after night, sitting across the table from a man who seemed intent to treat me as a stranger.

It went on for so long that one night I could put up with no more and so cornered my houseguest before he could retreat for the night, for he slept late into the morning (complaining of a childhood illness that left him sporadically weakened) and retired every evening at about 9 o' clock. I stopped him at the top of the stairs, my hand upon his arm which caused him to tilt his head down at it in question, an almost angry twist to his expression which smoothed out after a time as he looked from my hand on his arm to the earnest expression on my face. 

"Are you avoiding me, sir?" I had meant it to sound hot tempered but it only came out curious and perhaps a bit mischievous. He couldn't honestly say otherwise: we both knew it to be true.

Perhaps sensing that I would not give up easily he sighed. "Careful, little lord. Careful," Michael grinned quickly, also seeming unable to keep his apparent anger at my daring, dancing backward from my grip, his form skirting round me and further from my reach. "What is done is all to keep you safe." 

What a strange thing to say. Further intrigued I followed, always a pace behind as Michael led me from familiar surroundings and into the dark, his face, ever in shadow. 

We walked along for some time with no further conversation until I was sure he meant to leave me without satisfaction. "What are you on about, sir? Will you pretend as if you do not even know me, though we've spent these past many days seated across from one another and shared what I thought was a.. like-mindedness. To pretend so would do us both a disservice." I scowled at him, tempted to grab ahold of him and push until I got the answers I sought.

"I wouldn't do that." Michael's words echoed back to me, a teasing, a warning. Almost as if he knew my thoughts. 

As if sensing the falter in my step as I looked to my houseguest, my head cocked in confusion I stared through the darkness at him, Michael turned back towards me, form still held in shadows, his hand reaching back for me. It was as if all sources of light had been extinguished in the hall we had found ourselves in, the shadows surrounded us so.

I stared at that hand outstretched towards me for a long time, brows pulling tight before I reached hesitant fingers out to meet his. I couldn't see it but I would swear that Michael grinned at me before he turned again and pulled me further.

We ended up in an unused wing of the house where the furniture was covered in white sheets and I realized that this must be where his quarters were located. How odd that Father would put up a guest so far from the rest of the household.

I must have said these words aloud because Michael turned towards me, releasing my hand as he leaned upon a white sheeted unknown bit of furniture. Perhaps a couch? 

"I requested these quarters," Michael over at me at me, my face his whole focus, his eyes a particularly stormy shade of blue this night. I felt drawn into their depths, my mind seeming drawn under a thickness like water as my thoughts went unfocused and out of reach, I felt as if I hung on his every word even while I had come up here determined to bend him to my will and whim. How funny that thought was in hindsight. 

"You did?"

"Indeed, I asked of your Father the deepest darkest quietest place in which one could fall away entirely from notice of the rest of the house and he presented me with this place," He brushed at the dust lightly covering the table next to him idly. "It seems to live up to that description, at least."

It did indeed. "I am surprised that he would open this place, even for your use, I have never even been to this side of the house before." I murmured, turning in circles as I took in what I could, what with the lack of even a candle to light the room. "I can be very... persuasive. I'm told." There was a weary sort of lilt to his tone as if he were suddenly very tired of the conversation.

I stared across the dust filled room, what must be the long unused seating area of some forgotten part of my family tree, taking in Michael, shrouded there by the shadows, as if part of them. His eyes regarded me, as I were the strange one, the unknown enigma plaguing his every waking thought instead of him being the one to plague mine.

The audacity, it nearly made me smirk. I had been so used to having the upper hand in all my dealings with my peers that it was almost sort of refreshing to feel so caught up and unawares in this game we found ourselves playing. Almost.

Feeling suddenly as if I could ask of him anything (I do not know why I felt so suddenly like he would actually tell me truthfully what I wanted to know) I inquired about his family, getting only guarded answers there, I steered us back towards more common ground and we talked of his adventures before coming to stay with us to which he described all manner of strange and impossible things, it seemed he had the experiences of a dozen men, having done more in such a short time than most men could do in an age. He had sailed the oceans twice, and then thrice again! With pirates nonetheless! Had been to lands untouched by civilization and partaken of many a hedonistic ceremony. 

There were many things we spoke of, all which could have just been him humoring me with fanciful lies but I chose to believe him, but he would not tell me anything about why he came to be here with us, how he came to be here with me. 

I wanted to know, though I knew it impertinent to further inquire as his earlier reluctance suggested that he would not, perhaps could not tell me. 

But I didn't like being in the dark about my guest and so found myself engaging him further in conversation that in hindsight I should have known to leave well enough alone. 

I asked again, pleading almost, to know why he would not say were he had come from, why he couldn't say it in confidence even to me, for surely we were friends? 

Each question left him twitching and restless, his mood turning from jovial and agreeable to shuttered and guarded, his brow pulled tight as he watched me wearily. Like a large predator wounded and cornered, preparing to strike out.

Michael was suddenly beside me. I say suddenly because at one moment, he was leaned upon the sofa and the next, right beside me. There had barely been a moment in which for me to complete the process of blinking before he was from one place to the next. I shook myself, feeling my thoughts roiling and sluggish as if I had been drinking. But I had not. His hand caught my arm, turning me about. I stared upwards, completely drawn in even as my thoughts still stumbled over his sudden movement. "How... did you?" I blinked, gesturing feebly from the sofa to where he now stood, pressed nearly up against me. 

A part of me recoiled from the contact, certain even in the dark that someone would see (though there was no one about, not even the servants came to this part of the house) someone would know I was not really as repulsed by this assumed closeness that Michael so liked to impose upon me. He smiled down at me in a rather unnerving manner completely ignoring my words in favor of crowding closer. "You must be tired, little lord." He said the words so matter of fact that I felt myself nodding as if almost certain that I was very tired. Really. "I am sorry I kept you for so long, but I do not think we can continue this right at the moment." He tipped he head, looking as if h were listening to something very far away. "I promised myself I would wait and I.. I am rather enjoying your company. I do not think I could stand for it to be over so soon."

His words further confused me but I could only nod as one moment I was pressed up against him in the dark and then it was as if a shadow stole over me, my vision blurred (maybe I had partaken a big too much) and I found myself tumbling into bed, sleep overtaking me.

And I dreamed: a shade stood in the door of my quarters, then prowled across the room and about the foot of my bed. Each time I tried to look directly at it my vision slid away. I was certain whatever it was was too horrible, too terrifying to be looked at fully. To do so would mean death.

It was as I was coming to this conclusion that there was an awful feeling that came over me, an agonizing pain that began at my throat and spread out to the rest of my body, the heat seeping from me slowly. I cried out, the nightmare pulling me further under until I became buried under the flurry of ice that had leached into my bones.


	5. Chapter 5

Things were better between us after that night and I found myself quick to spend any amount of time with my newest companion, though that itself was marred by a sudden illness that swept up from the servants quarters and crept in to mine. I feared to speak it allowed, but the whispers followed everywhere. A shadow and a pain like ice that crept beneath the skin. A demon that fed on rich and poor alike.

The dream I had some nights before continued to plague me, getting darker and leaving me disturbed in ways I cannot name. I woke every morning to dark circles and a trembling in my fingertips. 

But still, shaking as I was, I put on a smile. Dusted fingers over lips to check for any trace of blood. Came away with nothing. All was good. Illness would not take this happiness from me. 

I had Michael. Every glance and secret smile was mine. Mine to hold close to my chest and let it burrow warm under my skin. Glowing like fine embers. It was an... unidentifiable feeling. I had never been this close to another before. None of my previous acquaintances had inspired such a feeling in me. I wondered, I hoped that he felt it too.

"Were you ever really a pirate?" I asked out of the blue. We were reclined on the bank of the river some miles from my home, boots removed and britches rolled up to dip toes into the water, having spent the earlier part of the afternoon hunting in the brush for some sign of game. 

A sputtered laugh and I looked over to see Michael with head tilted back, skin glowing in the late afternoon sun. My mouth suddenly dry as the desert he had spoken of. He chuckled, "In a manner of speaking. It was not a title I asked for, but one I'm sure I would have been given if we were ever to have been caught."

"I see." Michael grinned at my tone, leaned forward as if to slink towards me. I tried to swallow the sun, burning down my throat at the look on his face. "Does the little lord really?" He laughed, tackling me roughly till we rolled, tumbling into the water. 

I came up gasping. Unable to form more then whimpers as I clawed my way up Michael's frame trying to hold myself above the water. It really shouldn't frighten me, the water. But. "I don't know how to swim." I cried, clung tighter. Hands leaving bruises when I felt him shudder against me. Laughter wracking his frame.

The water wasn't very deep, but the current tore at my legs where I hung on to him causing my grip to tighten further as he rocked slowly towards the shore. "You would have made a terrible pirate." He husked, setting me lightly there, leaning back into the water, arms moving to keep him afloat. 

I should have wondered at that, thought how the waters had nearly pulled me away, yet he slid effortlessly through them. Instead, I marveled at the droplets of water sliding down his exposed skin, clinging to his hair and lashes. I shivered on the bank, soaked through and suddenly thirsty. My temper not even getting a chance to rise. "I suppose you're right. A lucky thing that I've never put much thought to piracy before now."

Michael smirked at me from the water. "Yes. Lucky indeed," His chin dipped beneath the surface as he frowned, eyes looking towards the bottom. "Why did you want to know, then? If you hadn't thought on it before?"

Leaning back down to spread out in the slightly sun warmed grass I admitted: "I wanted to see if you were telling the truth. You said a lot of things the other night, things that could have easily have been made up for my benefit."

"Oh David," Michael slogged up out of the river, water streaming. "As if I could ever lie to you. Besides, who in their right mind tells someone that they were a pirate just to impress them? That type of thing will get you hanged." His hand slid up to his throat. Rested there. 

My mind raced with a million questions. Unsure if I was brave enough to voice the more prevalent aloud. I twisted in the dirt, sitting up to hunch over my outstretched limbs, my hands flexed and tore up tufts of grass, unable to settle. Michael watched me with that calm quiet way that he had. My mouth opened. Closed. Lips forming around the words as I fought to not say them. "But you have." I whispered. Tormented. At his confused look I continued: "You're lying to me now, each look, a lie. Each touch, a lie. What are you doing to me, Michael? Why are you making me feel this way? When you know that it is damnation and ruin." It could only ever be.

Michael was beside me, suddenly. In that way he had moved the other night. The space between blinks. His eyes grazed my skin, leaving a trail of fire behind as he leaned still further in. Lips hesitant against skin. He pulled back. The space a breath. "Is this also a lie?" 

It was. It had to be. These things I felt surely burned so hot because they were tainted with the fires of hell itself. I had been able to convince myself since his arrival that the feelings were just the desires of a lonely child. I had several sisters and my parents, of course. But surely the racing of my heart and the surge of emotion could all be just chocked up to intense loneliness for a person of my own age who would understand me. 

What a terrible liar I was turning out to be as well. I lied to Michael, while trying to convince him he was the liar. I lied to myself. Every second alone with him proved nothing of hell but that if this was damnation, I was too weak to resist it.

I turned into the mouth just breaths from mine. Lips capturing lips. It was divine. Divinity was perhaps too pale a word to describe it. I had shared kisses before, with serving girls and some of my sister's more daring friends. I had a reputation, of sorts. But all previous encounters were washed away when compared to this one. This sinful act, which should cost me my soul. But all I felt was alight.

Kisses dripped like wet hot magma, molten against my lips. Each caress rending my argument useless, utter lies. Surely nothing could be better than this.

Perhaps heaven had not had its fill of my guilt. 

The kiss broke. I hadn't the presence of mind to understand why Michael was retreating from me until I noticed that my hands had fallen from their purchase on the front of his clothes. Fallen open from trembling. Michael sat back a pace, his eyes on the gentle tremor there.

I wanted to say it was from the cold, but there was something there in his eyes, when they slid to examine the bruise shaped circles under mine, that knew. He knew something was wrong. And he felt guilt for it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the risk of sounding like a needy brat, I just wanna say, I like comments. And kudos.  
> I'm flying by the seat of my pants here and it would be cool to hear if anyone likes this weird brainchild of mine.  
> That being said..  
> Anyways, enjoy my tiny ass chapter, my adhd won't let me concentrate on anything for very long so if I post something huge just know that its sat in my phone for literal months while I came back to it and poked and prodded until I was like, either post it or delete it!  
> Also, I meant to write something of substance but literally every single time I sit down to write, these guys kiss. Damn near did the dirty tango in the second chapter.


End file.
